


and i will try (to fix you)

by the_nvisiblegirl



Series: Post-Episode Shenanigans (Season 5) [4]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s05e09 The Great British Fake Off, Established Relationship, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23927479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nvisiblegirl/pseuds/the_nvisiblegirl
Summary: The mission is over and she no longer has anything to distract her from the fact that Sara is lying unconscious in the med bay and they don’t even know what’s wrong with her. Ava doesn’t like feeling useless. She wants to help, wants to save her girlfriend. The knowledge that she can’t makes her want to scream.
Relationships: Ava Sharpe & Zari Tomaz | Zari Tarazi, Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe
Series: Post-Episode Shenanigans (Season 5) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734784
Comments: 14
Kudos: 124





	and i will try (to fix you)

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to go and get some groceries this morning but instead I wrote this because I like to make people (and myself) cry, I guess. I'd say I'm sorry but I'm not, so...
> 
> Enjoy, punks!

The mission is over and she no longer has anything to distract her from the fact that Sara is lying unconscious in the med bay and they don’t even know what’s wrong with her. Ava doesn’t like feeling useless. She wants to help, wants to save her girlfriend. The knowledge that she can’t makes her want to scream.

She hasn’t cried yet, hasn’t _let_ herself cry, because the team needs her. They need her to be strong, to step up and be the captain they deserve. But now everyone is asleep and the ship is quiet and no disaster needs her immediate attention. The silence is heavy, oppressive. It weighs on her chest and feels like it’s going to crush her; to break her to pieces right here on the kitchen floor. Her index finger runs along the rim of the glass in front of her. She should go to bed. She needs to be well-rested for whatever tomorrow will bring—especially now that Astra is with them and they’ve got not one but two Goddesses trying to kill them all.

But going to sleep means going to her— _their_ —bedroom and Ava knows she won’t be able to bear the sight of the empty bed. She hasn’t slept without Sara next to her in 86 days—honestly isn’t sure if she still can. She isn’t too eager to find out.

So, instead, she goes to Sara’s office to sleep on the couch in there. It seems like a good enough compromise until her eyes fall onto the desk. There’s a photo of her and Sara on it. They look so happy in it, so carefree, and Ava finally breaks. A sob escapes from her lips and she clasps her hand in front of her mouth, hoping it will keep all of this inside—her feelings, her desperation, this all-consuming pain she is feeling at even the thought of possibly losing Sara. She can’t lose Sara. She _refuses_ to lose Sara. Another sob, even louder this time. The tears are streaming down her face freely now, dripping down her jaw and forming wet little spots on her shirt. One hand reaches out and for a second she thinks she is going to touch the picture, to run her finger over Sara’s smiling face and pretend that everything is alright, but then she puts it on the table instead. Spreads it out, lays it down flat as if to anchor herself. She closes her eyes. A deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. Her fingers twitch. She has stopped sobbing but the tears are still coming hot and fast. Silent. Something on the chair catches her eye. Sara’s hoodie. The grey one. Her favorite. Ava picks it up and presses it to her face almost instinctively. It smells like Sara. For a moment, Ava is overwhelmed by the sensation, by the memories something as simple as Sara’s scent brings up. Their first kiss. Sara calling her her girlfriend for the first time. Being fully and unconditionally loved.

Her feet start walking before her brain can tell them not to, as if on autopilot. And maybe she is. Maybe somewhere in her programming there’s a section of code that overrides her entire system; that shuts her down if emotions she shouldn’t be able to feel in the first place get too overwhelming. Maybe that would be better than this. Easier. She feels so utterly human right now—fragile, broken, scared—and she doesn’t understand how people can bear it, this pain. Maybe she should ask Gideon to put her into a coma, too.

No. She needs to be strong. For Sara. For the team. For their _family_. They’re all depending on her. When she gets to the med bay and sees Sara lying in the chair just like she’d left her a few hours ago she’s both frustrated and relieved at the same time. At least she isn’t dead.

She still looks strong, her muscles clearly visibly through her thin shirt, but she also seems softer, less troubled, like, for once, the weight of the world isn’t resting on her shoulders. If Ava squints she can pretend Sara is just asleep, resting, and that she will wake up tomorrow morning like nothing has happened and everything will go back to normal. _Normal_. As if any part of their lives could ever just be normal. Her hands are drawn to Sara’s of their own accord, and they wrap around the one closest to her, encase it and hold on so tightly that she’s afraid she might be breaking bones.

“Sara, please,” she whispers, voice hoarse, and she can feel a new round of tears prick in her eyes. Or maybe she never stopped crying in the first place, who knows. “I need you, please come back to me.” It’s selfish. She’s selfish. She needs Sara to wake up so she can stop feeling like the world is falling apart around her. So she can breathe again. She needs Sara to survive.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, hands clasping Sara’s, crying, praying. Could be moments. Minutes. Hours. It doesn’t matter.

The sound of someone calling her name is what eventually startles her out of her stupor. For one perfect, hopeful second she thinks it’s Sara and she’s back, alive, giving her that signature lopsided smirk and telling her that she’s a nerd for crying by her girlfriend’s lifeless body at four in the morning. But it isn’t. Of course it isn’t. Instead, it’s Zari. She’s looking at her with a mixture of concern and understanding, leaning against the door to the med bay, hair still perfectly styled. And Ava hasn’t quite figured this version of Zari out yet, isn’t sure if she just looks like that all the time or if it is because she hasn’t slept either. Because she lost her brother a few days ago and probably knows exactly what Ava is going through right now.

“You need to sleep,” she says, tone even.

Ava wants to protest, to say she can’t because she needs to help Sara, protect her, bring her back to life. She’ll sacrifice her own sanity in the process if she has to. It seems like a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things. But the words don’t come out. She’s silent, eyes pleading for something she can’t name. Staring at Zari and feeling more helpless than she ever has. More helpless than when she found out she’s a clone from the future with a life’s worth of fake memories. More helpless than when she suddenly became Director Sharpe after Bennett’s death.

“Come on.”

Zari is suddenly next to her, one hand snaking around her elbow, pulling her up. She wants to protest, wants to fight her, but she doesn’t have the energy. Her hands slip from Sara’s. She’s exhausted, spent, so she lets Zari slowly drag her away, down the hall, across the bridge, and into her room. She’s never actually been in here before. It’s nice—although a bit too sparkly for her taste.

“Get in,” Zari orders pointing at the bed and Ava does as she’s told, lying down on her side, facing the wall. She should’ve probably changed into her pajamas first but that would’ve meant going to her own bedroom and being faced with the reality of Sara’s situation. Again. She’d rather sleep in jeans.

There’s some rustling behind her, a tug on the covers, before the lights turn off and all she can see is darkness. It’s silent except for the humming of the engines.

Usually, the noises of the ship soothe her, help to lull her to sleep, but today they’re too loud. She wants to cover her ears, roll into a ball and make herself small. But before she can do any of that she feels an arm wrap around her waist as a warm body presses to her back. The world around her goes quiet. She’s never been the little spoon.

“We’ll get her back. We’ll get both of them back,” Zari assures her and Ava is aware she can’t know that—can’t _promise_ that—but she believes it anyway. She reaches for the hand resting where her belly meets the mattress, grabs it tight, pulls it up and against her sternum like an anchor. A single tear escapes from the corner of her eye, runs across the bridge of her nose before falling onto the pillow underneath her head. She takes a breath and closes her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Penny for your thoughts?


End file.
